Those Three Words
by NightingaleLost
Summary: It's not that I didn't care. It's just that I didn't know. But you only said those three words; how was I to know? Token 1st P.O.V.


This is literally the first Tyde pairing I've done, and really, it's only friendship, so I don't think it counts as a pairing. But anyway, first one I've done, but I'm quite proud of it.

This is what happens when you listen to "Misery" by Maroon 5 twenty seven times in a row and decide to write something. But anyway, this was inspired by that song, which is very great. The beginning makes me want to strip down and have an orgy. XDDDD

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own South Park. Stop making me put these up.**

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I don't have to think about a lot of things. I don't have to think about how much something costs when I want to buy it. I don't have to think about what grade I'll get on an important test. I don't have to think about being lonely. It's just one of the things that comes with being rich, smart, and popular. So I just don't think about unimportant stuff like that.

But I guess that maybe, if anything, I should have thought about my best friend.

We started out as friends of convenience, really. When I was younger, I wasn't quite as popular as I am now, and I needed friends. I fell in with a small crowd, composed of four people: Craig Tucker, Clyde Donovan, Tweek Tweak, and of course, me. They were cool and all, but Tweek stuck closer to Craig, so I wasn't left with Clyde as a best friend.

Clyde is the completely opposite of me. He's whiny and sometimes a coward. He hates studying for tests, so he gets horrible grades. He was, and still is, a little stocky. He eats way too much, and he has some terrible table manners. And sometimes, he just doesn't know when to _shut up_.

But still, somehow, amazingly, he really did become my best friend. The guy I hung out with, who I talked to, who knew every one of my secrets and vise versa. Clyde used to say it was just us, two against this whole fucked-up town. It used to be one of his favorite sayings. He doesn't say it anymore. I don't know when he stopped, but it was a long time ago.

I guess that's just another little sign I ignored.

Looking back on it, it's my fault. I'm a bad friend. I'm inconsiderate, almost arrogant, and just a little bit of a narcissist. Another thing that comes with being rich, smart, and popular? Probably. I don't know, I guess I just took it for granted that he was always okay with it. After all, he never said anything different. It was always, "Nah, it's cool."

We hung out together all the time, as I said. He'd call me up to go throw stones at passing cars and we'd go do that. I can't believe we still do that at this age; high school students are supposed to be a little more mature, right? A myth, in all reality, seeing as everybody else does it too. But we'd make plans, and often, increasingly often as we got older, we'd get interrupted by my phone ringing, just as we were about to leave. I'd get calls from girls who wanted to see me, from other friends inviting me along to things that I would think was slightly more exciting that what me and Clyde had planned for the day. I'd agree and tell Clyde, almost apologetic, offering to postpone our plans until tomorrow. He'd just grin and say those three words.

"Nah, it's cool."

Then I'd leave him without a second thought and go have fun with someone else. In my mind, it was just a sign of how good of a friend he was, although now I realize he never let anything interrupt us from his side. I never thought about how Clyde passed his time. Another thing I should have thought about but didn't. It wasn't that I didn't care, I just didn't know. Didn't know how much I hurt my best friend, blowing him off so many times without thought.

But then I saw, and I was ashamed.

It all started one day, when me and Clyde were going to go to the arcade. There was a game there, called Terrorist Alert, about a bunch of hijackers who had taken over an airport, so you and a partner had to go inside and shoot them all. It was hard enough that you couldn't pass it alone; you had to have somebody with you playing as your second. Clyde and I always teamed up to try and beat it, and we'd taken the high score spot thirty-seven times. We were planning our thirty-eighth time, when my phone rang. It was Kevin, who'd invited a whole bunch of people to go watch Inception in 3D. I hadn't seen it yet, and it was the last showing in 3D in our town, and Kevin was paying, so I'd agreed instantly and hung up, turning to Clyde.

"Kevin just invited me and a bunch of the guys to go watch Inception. We can go to the arcade tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, sure." Clyde shrugged.

"You sure about it?" It was ritual; I already knew what he was going to say.

He didn't disappoint. There was a crooked grin and, "Nah, it's cool."

And I left him. Just turned around and went to the movie theater without a second's thought about what Clyde was going to do. He'd be fine, he'd go and take up his time elsewhere. Probably eating, was my best guess on those days when I could spare some of my brain to think about if for a nanosecond.

The special effects on the movie were amazing, and the 3D was great. We were all pigging out on popcorn and drinks and candy, just a rowdy mess in the theater. Halfway through, though, the movie stopped, and turned black. The lights came on, and the manager came out, saying that they were having technical difficulties, but they would refund all of the patron's money. So Kevin got his money back, and suggested pizza. I wasn't hungry at that time, so I refused. I was the only one, and seeing as I didn't have anyone left to hang out with, I decided to go wherever Clyde was. It was the first time I'd actually gotten the chance to go back to Clyde early.

Because Clyde had the crazy habit of accidentally dropping and breaking every single cell phone he'd ever had, his parents had forbidden him from having another one until he was mature enough to keep one for more then three months. So I called his home phone, where I always called him. His mom picked up.

"Hey, Mrs.D. Can I talk to Clyde for a sec?"

"Oh no, Clyde's not here, sweetie. I thought he said he was going to hang out with you."

I was confused. Where else could Clyde be? But I decided not to worry his mother and just reply with, "Whoops, I see him now. Okay, never mind; bye, Mrs.D."

I honestly had no idea where Clyde could be. He was always at home when I called. I called around and asked a couple of our mutual friends, but no one could tell me where he was, or if they'd seen him today. After a silent moment debating, I decided to go to the arcade. Maybe he'd gotten bored and went there anyway. Soon I arrived there, and I'd been engulfed in bright lights and loud game sounds, along with all of the people that went there. I hunted around for a while, and then I found him. He was standing in front of Terrorist Alert, alone, shooting away silently, a blank look on his face. he wasn't jumping around and yelling out random karate things like he usually did when we played together.

He just looked really, really...lonely.

A voice called me, and I looked around, surprised when I finally saw who it was. Pip Pirrup waved at me casually, leaning back on a side counter. He wasn't as much a social reject as he was when we were younger, but he still wasn't all that popular, either. He'd finally dropped that stupid blazer and bowtie, but kept the prominent accent, although a slightly deeper voice made it more tolerable. His clothes today were a bit...flamboyant: tight silver pants with chains hanging off the loops, a long sleeved white shirt and black vest with gold trim, open in the front, and a small golden watch and chain hanging out of one of the vest pockets. A thick leather choker decorated his throat. I shuddered to think about what would happen to my reputation if people saw me talking to him, but it was rude to ignore people after they caught sight of you.

I hesitantly made my way over to him. "Hey, Pip...what're you doing here?"

"Oh, I come here all the time, my good fellow. I love your little American games." He grinned. "I'm quite good at all of them, you know."

"That's...great."

He waved it off casually. "But what are _you_ doing here, that's _my_ question."

I pointed over at Clyde. "I came to find him."

Pip raised an eyebrow. "Really now? Well, how surprising."

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"I told you, I'm here most of my time; whenever I see Clyde, he's either with you or alone. You never come to join the fellow." He paused. "I do have to say, he looks slightly happier when you're playing with him."

I had to agree with him on that one. "Yeah, usually he's yelling and acting all stupid."

"Mmm, yes, I know. He does look miserable now, doesn't he?" Pip mused. "I play with him sometimes, you know...he's very good. He can beat it himself, but sometimes he invites me. Although he's never as happy with me. Always at that game, whenever I see him alone."

"It's our favorite game."

"You have any high scores on it?" The blond asked.

"Yeah. We usually get first place on it." I frowned. "Although there's always been some guy who beats us and keeps on booting us out of first place. Named FUT or something. I can't tell who it is, seeing as we only get three letters and everything."

Pip stared at me incredulously. "But don't you know? That's Clyde."

"What?"

"We beat the game together occasionally, and that's always what he puts down as the name. Never tells me why, though..." he trailed off.

A sinking feeling hit me at that point, and I tried not to think about what those letters stood for. I already had a good idea of what they meant. I could feel Pip's eyes on me as I stared at Clyde, stiffly killing virtual terrorists. So this was what he did whenever I blew him off? He came here and passed lonely time plugging angry bullets into a screen that only had a score and name as a testament to his hurt. And this had been going on for how long? All those times I blew him off, screwed him over...it could have been _years_.

Honestly, you have no idea of how much of a jerk I felt at that point. Pip's voice brought me back.

"I think he just wants someone to play with. He must be bored of being alone; he never comes in with anybody else." After a pause, he looked at Clyde thoughtfully. "Not long before he loses his last life; today's not one of his good days." He held out a fist, motioning for me to hold out my hand. A bunch of game tokens dropped into it. Pip grinned, waving off my protests.

"You should join him for a game, don't you think? Besides, I have more; think of it as a simple generosity." He turned away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there's Halo game with my name on it. Top score, of course." There was a moment as he chuckled, then he looked back at me, a cool look in his eyes. "You won't tell anybody about this little meeting, will you? I _do_ have a reputation to uphold, you know. Thanks. Lovely talking to you, chap."

Then he was gone, jauntily sauntering away into the crowd of people, his silver pants reflecting half of the light in the building. I turned my attention to Clyde, walking over to him. Pip was right, I saw the big white letters flash on-screen "GAME OVER", and heard Clyde's mutters and curses. Walking up, I gently pushed past him, depositing a couple of tokens into the game. Clyde sputtered angrily.

"Hey, what the fuck-Token?...what're you doing here?"

I picked up the second plastic gun, glancing over to him. "Movie crapped out in the middle, so I bailed on Kevin's pizza offer and came looking for you."

Clyde stared at me for a moment, then shrugged, leaning forward to start the game. He didn't say a word as we played for a couple of minutes, and then I finally opened my mouth to say, "Look, man, I'm sorry for screwing you over so many times...it's not right to do that to you, and 'm being a jackass just calling myself your friend. So, I'm sorry."

Clyde's eyes were still glued to the screen, and he only whooped loudly as he took out three terrorists with a well-thrown grenade. He seemed to be returning to his usual loud self, and he laughed in my direction. "Whatever, dude. Don't get all girly on me."

I let it go; I could tell he didn't really trust me to stick around the next time we were interrupted. But I learned. And after that day, I thought. I thought about something I should have thought about a long time ago instead of being a jerk. I thought about being a better friend to my best one.

A couple of days later, we made plans to test drive the new car my dad had recently gotten me, and drive around, flaunting it across town. Clyde was just about to take shotgun when my phone rang again, predictably. It was Kyle this time, inviting me to some booze party at his house. My eyes swiped over to Clyde, who had a bored, clearly expectant look on his face. I could tell he thought he knew what was going to happen. I declined politely and hung up.

I turned to a surprised Clyde, stowing my phone in my pocket after making sure it was set on vibrate. "Something about a lame party. Mind if I stay here with you?"

There was a pause in which he stared at me dumbly, then he gave me a wide beam, saying those three words I had grown so accustomed to.

"Nah, it's cool."


End file.
